Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
by Hidge
Summary: Private. Intense. Brilliant. Kind. Words that Vision would use to describe his best friend. Love - well, that was one word that neither of them had a lot of experience with. AU.
1. 1 -

**A/N:** I actually wrote this before Just Friends? so it's my true first attempt at the pairing. Enjoy!

* * *

 **1 -**

He felt as if he had spent the past three years of his life trying to understand one woman.

Wanda Maximoff.

Since the moment of their introduction, he had been trying to deduce every action, every carefully chosen word. Anything that he could latch onto to figure out how that brilliant, beautiful, dangerous brain of hers worked.

Through all of the time spent together studying, watching movies, getting coffee, and just generally enjoying each other's company, he felt as if he knew her. He knew her likes – hot beverages like coffee and tea, punk music, the colour red, old movies, renaissance art, post-modern poetry – and her dislikes – white chocolate, country music, roller coasters, humid summer days, that show about the Kardashians and a lot of other things associated with American popular culture. Sometimes he knew what she wanted even before she told him. They certainly had a bond and he would consider her to be one of his closest friends, probably his _best_ friend.

But she was intensely private. She was in her last term of an Electrical Engineering degree, on work term, but she rarely talked about her job. She answered questions about her day and her work with generic responses. He knew that she was Jewish but she had never invited him to celebrate a holiday with her, even when he had expressed interest. She didn't talk about her childhood, or growing up in Sokovia, or how she had come to live in America. He knew that she loved her twin brother, Pietro, more than anything or anyone else, but she hadn't even so much as casually mentioned another family member. Perhaps there was no one else to mention. He gathered that talking about these things was painful for her, as he had an inkling that their backgrounds weren't all that different. He had spent most of his adolescence bouncing around the English foster care system, which he had shared. He knew what it was like to feel neglected and abandoned and he was able to connect with her based on those feelings, if she allowed him.

She was the most complicated, most fascinating problem that he had ever encountered. But she kept up too many walls for him to get close to a solution.

And maybe he was sort of, just a little bit, in love with her.

Which was made all the more complicated by the fact that he was lying, half naked, in her bed, in the early hours of the morning, and she was in the shower of the adjoining bathroom.

* * *

Several hours earlier…

He turned his head towards the edge of his desk as he heard his phone faintly buzz. He lowered his coffee mug and tapped the screen to see a message that he was used to receiving.

 _2:12 AM - Wanda_

 _I can't sleep._

It wasn't odd for her to text him so late. She was an insomniac, sometimes self-inflicted, and he was frequently up late coding, as he was tonight. Like most Computer Science grad students he worked with, his mind worked best late at night, hyped up on caffeine. The code seemed to flow easier at this time, or perhaps he had picked up a bad habit or two from Tony Stark.

He was about to reply to the message when another came in.

 _Come over?_

He didn't even hesitate.

 _Leaving now_.

He saved his progress, gulped down the rest of his coffee, and grabbed his jacket. Wanda lived in an apartment with her brother not that far from campus. It was only about a fifteen-minute walk from the graduate dorms.

Campus was quiet and peaceful, and it had just started snowing when he reached her building. His long legs allowed him to take the stairs two at a time and then he softly knocked on the door so as to not wake Pietro.

She opened the door and leaned against it with a soft smile. "Hi."

"Hi," he replied, his voice just as soft.

She reached out and pulled him through the door by grasping onto his jacket. "Thanks for coming," she said as she spun around and headed towards the kitchen.

"Always," he answered honestly.

He shed his jacket and hung it on the coat rack so that by the time he turned around, Wanda was standing at the kitchen counter holding a kettle. With her back to him, he stole a moment to look at her. Her hair was piled up into a messy bun on top of her head, she was wearing a blue, plaid button-up that he could have sworn was his once upon a time, and black shorts that were so small they were practically underwear. He knew that she never thought about her style of dress in front of him, but she usually was a tad more conservative, especially in the winter.

"Hot chocolate?" She asked to shake him from his thoughts.

"Yes, please." He moved around the apartment comfortably, he had spent enough time here, and he settled in the arm chair next to the chessboard.

Sometimes exhausting Wanda's mind helped her fall asleep, and on such occasions they would sometimes fall asleep in the living room together, or he would crash on the couch, or in Pietro's bedroom if he wasn't home.

She sat on the couch adjacent to him and placed the two mugs on the coffee table. "Chess?" She questioned with an arched eyebrow.

"Seems like a good idea, unless you have something else on your mind." He meant the comment to be casual, offhanded, but he noticed the way she paused and pursed her lips. "I just mean—"

"Maybe I did have something else in mind when I texted you," she admitted, "but let's play chess first."

He decided not to overthink that comment too much and he set to work repositioning the chess pieces so that they could start.

There was something especially beautiful about watching Wanda play chess. Her green eyes sparkled with concentration, there was an ever-present smirk hiding at the left corner of her mouth, and she played with her hands more than usual. She really did have beautiful hands. She toyed with the rings on her fingers as she considered her next move and he watched, enraptured.

He was so focused on her that he almost missed the subtle shift of her bishop and the accompanied, "Check." He furrowed his brow in confusion and she chuckled. "Distracted?"

He raised his eyes to look at her and there was something different in her gaze. The playfulness he was used to, especially during something like this, because as much as she denied it, she was incredibly competitive and they were very well matched in chess, so she was willing to exploit any advantage that she could to win. But there was something else, something…he didn't want to be presumptuous but it looked an awful lot like…desire?

Now he actually was distracted, so unfocused in fact that he made a move right into her trap.

"Checkmate," she grinned triumphantly.

He sighed and leaned back in the armchair with a smile. "Well played." He raised his hand to rest against his temple as he stifled a yawn. "Tired?"

She shook her head slowly and he noticed that one of the buttons on her shirt had slipped open, and it was now open just enough to make him blush.

"Wanda," he began shyly as he pointed to his chest. "Your shirt…"

She looked down but she did not make a motion to do up the button. "Vizh," she spoke his nickname fondly and it made something flutter in his chest. "Don't you ever think it's strange when a girl texts you in the middle of the night to come over?"

"Strange?" He repeated with a tilt of his head.

She nodded in confirmation as she got to her feet and stepped around the coffee table to move closer to him. "Yeah, _strange_."

He gulped as she climbed onto the chair and straddled his lap. "Well, you're my friend," he reasoned. "And you asked."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Just because I asked?" She whispered.

He found all of this to be very overwhelming. Sometimes they had a physically affectionate relationship; Wanda was a tactile person. But it was all very innocent and platonic, a squeeze of a hand here, a kiss on the temple or cheek there, but nothing like this. This was decidedly _not_ platonic. Her fingers were sending shivers down his spine, the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with whatever perfume or body spray she used surrounded him, and her shirt was open, so open.

God, she was beautiful.

"Of course," he finally responded. "Always."

He knew that it was easy for her to read between the lines of that reply - _I would do anything you asked._

She smiled brightly, sincerely, before she leaned in and kissed him softly on the mouth.

And of course he kissed her back.

It was light and sweet at first. She stroked his neck and his cheek while he tenderly gripped her waist and their lips touched and grazed, figuring each other out. It was everything he wanted his first kiss with Wanda to be. He wanted her to _feel_ how much he cared about her.

But the tone quickly changed. She shifted in his lap, applying more pressure, and her kisses became dirtier, more desperate, all teeth and tongue, and want. And he did his best to keep up. He had a passing thought that he should have expected this. Wanda was a passionate person. Anyone that knew her would not hesitate to use the word _intense_ to describe her. He knew her well, and therefore, he should have anticipated that doing something like this with her would be intense.

"Vision," she groaned as she gripped his hair and pressed their foreheads together. "Touch me."

"Wanda," he breathed, "this is not what I expected."

"Do you want to?" She asked before she started to kiss his neck.

"Um, yes." She giggled in his ear, most likely at how uncharacteristically inarticulate he sounded, and he chuckled along with her. "Are we moving too fast though?" He asked cautiously with her mouth still on his neck.

She took his left hand and guided it inside her shirt. "We should have started doing this years ago," she argued. "Now," she pulled back so that they could lock eyes while she spoke, "take me to my room and fuck me."

Her accent was thick and her voice was husky, and it irrevocably turned him on. So much so that it flipped a switch and any hesitation or doubt that he had harboured quickly left him. With one hand still on her breast, he wrapped his other arm tightly around her hips and slowly rose from the chair.

She gasped, an eager smile on her face, and rewarded him with another hungry kiss.

He made it to her bedroom based on his knowledge of the layout and he gently pushed the door closed with his foot. He laid her down on her bed, already unmade and unkempt – she wasn't exactly the tidiest person that he knew and he was lucky not to have stepped on a book or CD of hers – and she kept him pressed against her by wrapping her limbs more tightly around him.

He worked a hand into her hair and pulled at the elastic band that held it up. He grasped the band in his fingers but he wasn't able to tug it free without tangling in her long, dark tresses. She gasped against his mouth and he grimaced.

Smooth, so smooth.

"Sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't," she smiled up at him. "I liked it." She nipped at his bottom lip before she added, "You don't have to treat me like I'm gonna break. You can be a little rough."

"I just want…" He took a deep breath to clear his head. "I just want…"

"What, Vizh?" She encouraged.

She slipped both of her hands underneath his sweater and her warm hands on his bare skin made him shiver. He concentrated on his breathing while he held himself above her until she urged him to take off his sweater by pulling on the hem. He sat up on his knees, careful to keep all of his weight off of her, and tugged his sweater over his head. He fought the urge to neatly fold it and lay it aside, and instead flung it somewhere behind him.

When he looked down, he swallowed, audibly. Her shirt was now completely open and her long hair was flowing over the pillows; her eyes were wide and wild and her smooth, pale skin stood out against the blood red bedsheets, even in the dark. "You're so beautiful," he told her. "And I don't want to mess this up."

She wrapped her long fingers around his belt and pulled herself up until she was sitting as well. "You're sweet." She smiled up at him, giving him that look that melted him on a regular day, before she leaned in to pepper kisses along his chest. "But you're thinking too much."

Of course he was. He knew that she wanted him to just shut up for once and be a man of action, of very specific actions at the moment, but he just couldn't stop himself.

"Wanda," he called softly. She tilted her chin upwards to look at him again and he took the opportunity to cradle her face with both of his hands. "Are you sure you want to? Like this? It isn't exactly how I've imagined it."

"Vision," she chided as her hands rested on his waist. "It's just sex."

She must have felt the way that he stiffened, or she caught something minuet in his expression because she blinked up at him owlishly before she disentangled herself from him and inched away to create space between them. Her own expression, which had been so open and easygoing all night, shifted into something very stern and her body language took on a dangerous, almost defensive quality.

For his part, he shifted into a position so that he was sitting cross-legged on the bed and waited for her to make the next move.

As if they were playing chess again.

When she finally spoke, she was angry. "It's not just sex, is it?"

His silence did enough of the talking.

"When were you planning on telling me?"

"When I thought you would want to hear it," he murmured with a wry chuckle.

"You love me."

And it wasn't posed as a question that needed an answer from him. It wasn't uttered with awe, or reverence, or the sense of wonderful relief that he knew would be present if their roles were reversed. It was a statement of fact that sounded bitter on her tongue, like she would rather be discussing the challenges associated with electromagnetism and power system dynamics, or absolutely anything else besides the fact that he loved her.

She cursed in her native Sokovian before she jumped off of the bed and rushed into the bathroom.

* * *

Back to the present…

He listened to the shower shut off before he decided that he really should put his sweater back on and get going. He slowly got to his feet and shuffled around in the dark until he felt his sweater beneath his hands. He was in the process of pulling it down over his torso when he heard a door open. He turned his head and reluctantly looked at his best friend standing in the doorway in just a towel. He set his jaw and ignored the obvious, like how beautiful she looked with her skin still slightly flushed from the temperature of the water and how he could smell her shampoo even from across the room.

"I was just getting ready to leave," he told her quietly. "Sorry for the delay." He stepped towards the door and he distinctly heard her sharply inhale.

"Vizh, wait," she called with a shaky voice. "I can't bear the thought of you leaving like this."

He tried to brush it off. "It's fine, Wanda."

"No, wait," she argued. She walked up to him and placed her hands on his abdomen, not unlike the way that she had earlier inside of his sweater. "Just let me explain."

He raised his head from where he had been staring at his feet. "Go ahead."

"I haven't been feeling that great lately. Graduation is coming up and that's pretty daunting. I've also been working on a project at work that's running me ragged, and Pietro keeps asking me to go back to Sokovia with him for the Olympic trials and I don't know if I can, for a lot of different reasons. And it's just been a lot," she finished with a sigh.

He frowned. "You could have talked to me about any of those things."

"I know," she smiled. "But I got the idea that if I let off a little steam then I would feel better." She grasped his sweater tighter in her hands. "And I didn't want to just hookup with some guy on Tinder or in a bar. I wanted someone that I trusted and cared about, someone that wouldn't make me feel insecure or embarrassed. I wanted someone that I was attracted to for more than the way they looked."

His chest puffed up slightly at that statement. He heard words like trust, care, security, attraction ringing through his head. He settled his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. Maybe he didn't need to slink out of here with his tail between his legs after all.

"Why didn't you just ask?"

"Well, I kinda did," she smirked.

He grinned back at her and leaned down to join their lips again.

"But now I can't," she whispered as she stopped him with a hand on his face and her thumb on his lips. "I thought we were on the same page before, but I can't, not while I know that you're in love with me and I don't feel the same way."

He recoiled as if struck and he found himself genuinely upset with her for the first time in their friendship.

"It's really that terrible to you, isn't it?" He threw at her. "The idea that I love you? You should have seen your face when you pieced it together, it was like I had given you a particularly bad prognosis."

He had envisioned several scenarios for her reaction to when he finally got up the nerve to tell her what he really wanted. Obviously his favourite was the one where she returned his feelings in kind and wanted all of the same things. But he had also imagined rejection, indifference, ignorance, surprise, but he had never pictured disdain.

"I'm going to leave," he spoke quietly, but firmly.

"Vision." She strained to say his name so he knew that she was holding back tears. And he couldn't be around for those.

"Wait," she spoke again as he gripped the doorknob.

He ignored the other calls of his name and got out of that apartment as quickly as he could.

* * *

 **A/N:** Please review! :)


	2. 2 -

**A/N:** References to self-harm and depression, and implied prostitution.

* * *

 **2 -**

For the past three years, despite having a loving and protective brother, she had only known one person in her life who was truly stable. Loyal. Dependable. Trustworthy. _Steady_.

And now she had gone and fucked that up.

She brushed away her steady stream of tears as she sat on her bed with her back against the headboard and her knees pulled up to her chest. She had neglected to dry her hair after her shower so it kept sticking to her face as she tried to keep her body from shaking with the force of her sobs. She was wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a baggy, oversized hooded sweater, and she was unable to ignore that everything smelled like him. She hiccupped as she pressed the sleeves of her sweater to her eyes to stop the new wave of tears.

At this rate she wasn't sure if she would ever stop crying.

There was a reason that she had never previously pushed the platonic boundaries of her relationship with Vision. A part of her knew that it would be _so_ easy. Their friendship was effortless most of the time, despite their polar opposite personalities. They could spend hours together just talking and drinking coffee, and time would pass as if it were merely minutes. And it wasn't exactly difficult for her to imagine them in decidedly less friendly situations. His tall, lean, pale frame naked above her while his pretty blue eyes gazed down at her, with his big hands and soft mouth all over her body. It was a natural fantasy to fall into. He was handsome and intelligent, ambitious, thoughtful – a real catch, certainly long-term boyfriend material.

He wasn't like other guys his age. He was definitely special. He liked reading classic literature and drinking tea. Someone who enjoyed cooking, having meaningful conversation, and staying in for quiet evenings instead of hitting the clubs. He was an old-fashioned guy who didn't hesitate to open doors, and pull out chairs, and stand when a woman walked into a room. He was a literal taking long walks on the beach and watching the sunset type of person.

He had manners and he had taste.

But he was too kind, too sincere, too gentle. He was too many good things for her, and she ruined _everything_. There was a reason why she didn't talk about herself. There was nothing good to talk about.

Everything she touched turned rotten, she had learned that a long time ago.

She had been keeping him close, but not too close, for a reason – to keep him from having any sort of romantic feeling for her. She even found herself being intentionally cruel at times as a precaution. She was hard to like on a good day, due to her brash, competitive, quick-tempered nature. And yet he, the wonderful, foolish boy that he was, had gone and fallen in love with her anyway.

Only he would be so carelessly good intentioned.

Something that she wished she had seen in his eyes before she had decided to proposition him in order to achieve a little stress release. She had been thinking of lust, not of love.

 _"_ _Vision. It's just sex."_

For the first time in hours, she decided to move. She got up off of the bed and opened her lone window. She rifled through her desk drawer, easily finding the hiding place for her lighter and cigarettes, before she gracefully climbed out onto the fire escape so that she could smoke. It was a filthy habit, and she was trying to quit, but she really needed a cigarette right now.

Better a cigarette than a razorblade.

She sat down on the metal, cold from last night's dusting of snow, and she let her legs hang out over the edge of the platform. She savoured her first inhale and exhaled slowly as tears continued to well in her eyes.

She groaned in frustration as she pressed the heel of her left palm against her eye. She couldn't get his expression out of her head. That look on his face when he told her that he was leaving. He had looked so heartbroken and she couldn't stop seeing it. She never wanted to see him hurting like that, so it was even worse when she was the sole cause.

To make matters even more complicated, she couldn't stop thinking about how good he had made her feel in such a short time – the way his long fingers had caressed her breast, how he had effortlessly lifted her and carried her to her bedroom with only one arm supporting her, a strength she hadn't known he possessed, and his smooth accent breathing in her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the biting cold outside.

There was a quiet knock on her bedroom door and her heart leapt at the thought that it was Vision. But she knew that it wasn't. She knew that this time her vigilantly built walls and cruelty had truly done the job of driving him away.

"Sister," Pietro called. "Are you not feeling well?"

She didn't answer, content to smoke her cigarette and have him leave her alone.

But he opened the door and stepped inside her bedroom. "It's almost noon," he stated. "I brought you coffee."

"Just leave it on the nightstand, Pietro."

He must have heard the tears in her voice, her throat dry and hoarse from crying, because he stepped up to the window and leaned against the frame.

"What is wrong?" He asked not in English, but in their native Sokovian.

"Everything," she answered after a long pause.

"Come inside and talk to me," he encouraged softly. She took another pull from her cigarette and firmly shook her head. "Wanda, it's cold."

"I like the cold. It reminds me of home." She could practically hear Pietro's frown. "Don't worry, brother, I am still taking my medication."

After a long pause, he responded. "You know, it was cute when we were little and you pretended like you could read my mind. Not so cute at twenty-four."

She smiled, despite herself, as she took another draw from her cigarette.

"Now," he spoke again, a little sterner this time, "tell me what's going on."

She took a deep breath before she gave into her twin. "I hurt Vision," she confessed.

Pietro quickly scoffed, snatched what was left of her cigarette out of her fingers, and flicked it over the fire escape. "Is that it?" He questioned dismissively.

Wanda swiftly spun around and narrowed her eyes in a way that she knew still managed to scare her arrogant brother. "Is that it?" She mimicked furiously.

The blonde had taken a step backwards, but he still crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes as if they were having a meaningless conversation. "It can't be that bad," he tried to reason. "Just apologize. That guy adores you."

She pushed a hand into her hair and tugged at her roots in frustration. "It's not that simple."

When Pietro didn't respond right away, she finally turned around and climbed back into her bedroom. She walked back to her bed and sat down on the edge, fully allowing her brother to see just how awful she looked - wet hair sticking to her face, swollen, red eyes, and all.

"Jesus, Wanda, you look like shit."

"I know," she chuckled sardonically.

"So what happened?" He asked softly as he moved to sit down beside her. She immediately fell into him and began to cry against his chest. His body's natural impulse was to wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her closer. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and whispered, "You're scaring me."

"I really didn't want to hurt him," she managed to get out through gasping sobs. "He's just so _good_."

She knew that she was still leaving her brother in the dark about exactly what had happened, but she was having difficulty verbalizing it. It was hard for her to say out loud. The words kept getting stuck in her throat.

"He loves me," she finally revealed.

Pietro's arm tightened around her. "Of course he does," he stated matter-of-factly. "He's crazy about you."

Wanda pulled out of his embrace enough to look into his cool blue eyes. "What?" She asked in shock.

"Wanda." Pietro shifted so that he cradled his sister's face in both of his hands. "You're the only one that doesn't see the way he looks at you."

Her brother was being very soft-spoken and understanding, but her reaction to his statement was still to slap his hands away in anger. "Why didn't you tell me?" She shrieked. They told each other everything. Complete openness had been the basis of their entire relationship for as long as she could remember. She couldn't help herself from feeling a sting of betrayal.

"Wanda," he sighed, "it's not my secret to tell."

Her entire body deflated at those words and she wiped her face with the sleeves of her sweater. No one, not even Vision, had told her because they thought she wasn't ready to hear it, and they were right. Vision's confession of love was like a shock of ice water to her body. All that she had been able to register was a paralyzing fear. Her fight or flight response had overwhelmingly chosen flight, which she also felt crushingly guilty about. She wished she had responded to him in a more mature way, but it had taken a shower to organize her thoughts.

And even then, she hadn't been able to stop herself from stomping all over him.

Pietro leaned forward to press another soft kiss to the top of her head before he murmured in Sokovian, "Go talk to him."

She did not take her brother's advice right away. She tried calling him first, but as she expected, he did not pick up. She wouldn't have picked up either, if their roles were reversed. She didn't have the courage to leave a message so she just kept calling and then hanging up when the answering machine kicked in.

It was late when she finally gathered up the energy to get dressed, dry her still damp hair, and trek to Vision's dorm.

She was on the stairs when she considered turning around and heading back home. She didn't even know what she was going to say to him, just that she needed to see him. She needed _him_.

Her legs found the will to keep walking without her full consent and she ascended the stairs and headed to his door. She took a deep breath before she raised her fist and rapped on his door. She could feel the nervous energy take over her body as she bit down on her bottom lip and waited for him to answer.

When he finally opened the door, it was plain to see that he looked as awful as she did.

"Wanda?" He rasped.

"Hi," she exhaled quietly. "Can I come in?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as his hand clenched around the door. She could see his mouth and nose twitch as he weighed his decision. But when he finally spoke, it was not the answer that she was praying to hear.

"I don't think that's a good idea. I just want to be alone."

He started to slowly close the door, with a regretful yet resigned look on his handsome face, and she reached out her arm to stop him from shutting her out completely. "Wait, Vizh, please," she begged. "We don't even need to talk or anything yet, I just…" She stopped talking to sigh and brush fresh tears off of her face. " _Please_. I just need you."

Without saying a word, he pushed his door fully open and pulled her into his arms. As soon as she felt his strong, familiar arms around her, she began to sob into his chest. This was exactly what she had needed all day, to be in his arms and feel his long fingers in her hair, breathe in his comforting, masculine scent from his well-worn t-shirt.

She just needed a hug from her best friend.

She was so wrapped up in him that she didn't notice him step back into his room so that he could close the door behind them. He walked her to his twin bed and encouraged her to sit down. She did so and immediately scooted backwards until she was pressed against the wall. She instinctively pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees.

It felt incredibly reenergizing to finally stop crying.

She looked around the dorm room that she had been in hundreds of times as Vision plugged in the kettle.

It was small, there was no denying that. She preferred the term cozy, but Vision's tall, lanky frame made it seem like he was just too big for the space. There was only one room, aside from the small adjoining bathroom. One room to hold his bed, a small but fully functioning kitchen, his desk with all of his computer software and tech gadgets, and all of his clothes and other belongings. Luckily, Vision was a tidy person and an efficient user of space. If she had ever lived in a dorm room she knew that there would have been shit everywhere. But his place was immaculately clean. The bed was made, there was not a dirty dish or discarded piece of clothing in sight, and his desktop was perfectly orderly.

She felt safe here.

She sniffed as she watched him pour a cup of tea. For her no doubt. She didn't ever need to ask for anything with Vision; he knew exactly what she needed to find comfort. This time, however, as she watched him she wasn't just filled with feelings of warmth, friendliness, and affection. Her eyes were drawn to the way his shoulders bunched with each movement, and how his pants fit his long legs and firm behind.

He slowly carried the cup of tea to her and she accepted it with a soft smile. "Thank you," she muttered.

"You are welcome," he answered politely before he took a seat in the desk chair, a safe distance away from her.

She took several sips of her hot tea, the sensation unbelievably welcoming on her hoarse throat, before she spoke. "I am so sorry I hurt you." He cringed and hung his head so that his gaze was focused on his sock clad feet. "You're the last person I want to hurt. You don't deserve it. I fucked up, and I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Okay," he responded lifelessly.

"W-what can I do?" Panic was evident in her voice now. She had never seen him so despondent before. He couldn't even bring himself to look at her. "What can I do to fix this?"

The silence ate away at her. Every second that he didn't speak felt agonizing.

"Vision," she whimpered, "please, tell me what I need to do."

"I don't know, Wanda," he finally replied in a whisper. "I don't think you can just _fix_ it." He raised his head and looked at her helplessly. "I'm in love with you and you don't love me back. How can you fix that?"

She shifted to the end of the bed and placed her cup of tea on his bedside table. "I do love you," she told him passionately. "You're my best friend. Except for Pietro, nobody means more to me than you."

"It's not enough anymore," he muttered. He spoke and it was as if the words hurt him just as much as they hurt her.

She practically threw herself at him, kneeling on the floor in front of his chair and placing her head in his lap. "You don't mean that." He cradled her face in both of his hands and she leaned into his touch. "Vision," she tried to reason, "you don't want to love me."

He furrowed his brow and his face slowly morphed into an expression of anger. His eyes were still unbelievably kind as he stared down at her, but he was definitely mad. "What are you so afraid of?" He questioned in frustration.

She swallowed audibly before she responded. "The truth?"

"Yes," he breathed, the tone of his voice desperate. "Please."

He continued to cup her face as he waited for her to answer his simple, but absolutely terrifying question. To respond to him meant that she would have to bare herself to him in a way that she had never done before, a way that she had gone out of her way to avoid for years. She told others that she was just private; that she liked to keep her personal life _personal_. In reality, she was so scared of anyone truly knowing her, especially someone like Vision.

"I'm afraid that if you get to know me, _really_ know me, then there's no possible way that you could ever love me."

Her admission – the bluntest and most honest that she had ever been about herself to someone that did not share her blood – made the space between them feel charged with electricity and tension. She both wanted him to break the heavy silence and to completely forget what she had just revealed. But he just continued to stare at her as he brushed her cheek with his thumb. The tender motioned lulled her eyes closed and it somehow made it a little easier to let new tears roll down her cheeks.

"Wanda," he whispered. "That's not possible. I see you."

She shook her head in protest. "No, you don't know anything about me. Not really."

"Then tell me!" He implored, his voice raised a slight octave higher than usual. She shook her head so he pulled her into his lap, wrapped his arms around her midsection, and pressed his face into her hair. "You can't push me away. I won't let you."

She could hear a new resolve in him. His demeanour had shifted since he had made the connection that her feelings weren't about him at all, they were about her.

"You don't know the things I've done, Vizh. The things I was willing to do." She pressed her own face against his neck as she spoke. She couldn't watch his facial reactions as she recounted her deeply buried past. "Pietro and I grew up on the streets of Novi Grad. We had nothing except each other. No parents. No family. No money. Nothing. I would do anything for him because he's so talented and so full of life. Whatever it took for us to be fed, warm, healthy, clean. We were so rarely clean," she muttered, distracted by her own memories.

As she spoke, she tried to ignore the flashing images of the things that they had done on the filthy streets of their beloved capital city. They had learned to survive as children, with some guidance from a few adults with more experience that had shown them kindness. The only semblance of family besides her twin brother that she had ever known. Stealing, finding odd jobs to earn a few coins, and breaking into old abandoned houses and buildings had all been commonplace among street urchins. Those things, while wrong, had never bothered her. Living in poverty, homeless, had transformed her moral compass pretty early in life. Life wasn't fair for the poor in Sokovia, so there was no reason for them to play by the carefully crafted societal rules. But it wasn't until she had gone through puberty and began to notice the way that men looked at her that she truly understood the lengths that she would go just to live, for herself, but more importantly, her brother.

"We were fifteen," she began, and she could hear how deep and husky her voice had gotten, "Pietro got an awful infection that winter and I was so scared that I would lose him. There was a pharmacy near the town square where we would buy things sometimes. I didn't know what Pietro needed but the owner did. He seemed like a nice man, but he would always stare for just a little too long." She felt Vision's hands tense on her lower back so she pressed her face harder against his neck. "It made me uncomfortable until I realized the power that it gave me. What I could get from it."

She didn't say anything else for a long time. She stayed in her head, thinking of how she had manipulated that man that had dared glance at the length of her legs or the scoop of her neckline. She had skillfully used every feminine wile that she possessed to keep her and Pietro safe. When she grew comfortable enough, she used it to get drugs from him that she could sell on the street to buy new clothes and makeup, expensive sneakers for Pietro, and eventually, tickets to America.

"It wasn't until I got here," she finally continued, "that everything I did sunk in."

Her depression had simply been everything about her life in Sokovia hitting her all at once. Feeling as if her stomach was constantly empty and her hair permanently dirty. Carrying all of their belongings in one small knapsack. Sleepless nights curled around Pietro. Drug money stuffed into her bra for safekeeping. Smudged red lipstick, and rough hands, and musky cologne that still made her suppress a wave of nausea.

Before she had gotten her high school equivalency and worked her way into university, the worst feeling that she had experienced was knowing that she was better at living on the streets of Sokovia than living a normal life in America. Her first two years in America were so much worse than anything that she had been through as a ruthless street rat.

Just what exactly did that say about her?

"I'm too broken and fucked up, Vizh," she said before she pulled back to finally face him. She wiped her eyes again and brushed her hair behind her ears. "And you're so good. Don't spend your time trying to fix me."

He pushed a few stray strands of hair away from her face and smoothed his hand down the back of her head. She was a tad relieved to see that he didn't look repulsed or disgusted, he didn't even look shocked. He almost appeared to be…grateful.

Instead of arguing or spouting off something charming or sweet that she most likely wouldn't believe anyway, when he spoke his sentiment was simple. "That is the most you have ever told me about yourself. Thank you."

He offered her his first smile of the evening and she was helpless to do anything but smile back.

"I don't want to fix you," he told her as he continued to smile. "I just want to be with you."

"Vision," she sighed, but with an ecstatic tilt to her voice.

Whatever counterargument she had died in her throat when he leaned in to kiss her.

* * *

 **A/N:** Please review! :)


	3. 3 -

**A/N:** Both POVs at play in this chapter!

Warning: mentions of self-harm and sexual content. A LOT of sexual content.

* * *

 **3 -**

He couldn't stop kissing her, and he was delighted when she was unable to stop kissing him back. Short, sweet, soft kisses as he stroked her hair and supported her with his hand splayed on her lower back. All he wanted was to communicate his love, affection, respect, and acceptance of her.

Something had clearly changed between them. The shift was so noticeable that it was almost physical. And it wasn't just because he had said I love you anymore. It was because she had opened herself up to him in a way that she never had before. Actual moments, details, and memories from her past that clearly caused her shame. He believed that she had nothing to be ashamed of, she did what she thought was right to save her brother and herself. He would never, _ever_ , judge anyone for that, and definitely not her.

There was a difference between her not loving him and her not feeling worthy of his love. A difference that he wouldn't stand for.

And he couldn't stop breathing her name. Every kiss on her lips, her cheeks, and along her jaw was punctuated by her name. He spoke her name as he ran his hands up her back, through her hair, and finally cupped her face. He never wanted to stop saying her name.

"Wanda. Wanda. Wanda."

She wrapped her arms more tightly around his shoulders, forcing his head into the hollow of her throat – not that he was protesting. He ghosted his lips over the delicate bones of her collarbone and then up her throat, feeling the strong tendons in her neck. He nudged her chin with his nose before he drew her into another kiss.

"Wanda," he murmured, "please don't cry anymore."

She couldn't stop herself from releasing a laugh. She hadn't even realized that she was still crying. Somehow, she didn't feel as exhausted as she had hours earlier.

She created enough space between them to bring both hands to her face and wipe away her lingering tears. He held her waist to prevent her from tumbling out of his lap. His grip was firm, but tender and comforting. She couldn't believe that he hadn't asked her to leave, or worse.

Stupid, foolish, wonderful boy.

"You're incredibly stubborn," she told him with a smile.

"I'm stubborn?" He questioned with an arch of an eyebrow. "That's a little the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?"

She furrowed her brow. "I've never really understood that figure of speech. English expressions don't make any sense."

He chuckled as he playfully squeezed her waist. "You are far more stubborn than I am."

She laughed with a shake of her head as she wiped her eyes again, for hopefully the last time. "I must look awful," she muttered absentmindedly.

He shook his head as he gazed at her with a serious expression, so intense that it made her insides churn wantonly.

"You are stunning, and intelligent, and unbelievably strong," he stated as if it was as obvious as the most basic equation. "I think you're wonderful."

"Even after everything I told you?" She asked shakily.

He held the back of her neck and pressed their foreheads together. " _Because_ of everything you told me."

She sighed and placed her hands back on his shoulders. "Vision, I've never been this way with a guy before."

"What way?" He asked for clarification because he didn't want to get his hopes up.

She tilted her head and nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "So…exposed," she answered in a whisper.

He gently caressed her hair and touched her cheek. "What do you need? Are you okay?"

She covered his hand with her own and the faintest smile captured her face. "It's strange, with you it actually feels kinda good."

He smiled uncontrollably and they were quick to return to kissing.

He was so distracted by the touch of her lips and the feel of her skin that he almost missed her request. "Bed?"

"What?" He asked as he nipped at the corner of her jaw.

Her breath was heavy with her fingers clutching his fine, blonde hair. "Can we go to bed?"

"Yes, of course," he replied quickly. "You must be exhausted."

She laughed huskily against the side of his head. "Not that kind of going to bed, Vizh."

His hands and mouth stilled, and his eyes widened even though she could not see him. "Oh." He was content to just sleep, but if that's what she wanted…

"We'll go slow," he added after a moment of thought.

He stood up, lifting her into his arms, and he deposited her on his bed. Even though it was an incredibly short distance, Wanda couldn't help but be reminded of how he had effortlessly carried her to her bedroom. His display of strength made her moan and dig her nails into his biceps.

She got comfortable on her back, her head resting on his pillows, and he settled between her hips. It was strange, at first, especially when she thought about it. She was mouth to mouth, pelvis to pelvis with Vision. _Her_ Vision. A guy that now knew way too much about her, and had seen her dirty and without makeup countless times, and had watched her make out with random guys in dark corners at parties. They should have the type of friendship that would make this physical step unimaginable. Despite feeling obviously aroused, he was still Vision! His hair was almost freakishly soft, his shoulders much broader than she had believed, and he was so much taller than her that she could barely run her feet along the back of his calves. How had she never noticed that he was such a giant?

But there was also an odd sense of rightness. Like it was natural for them to be making out on his bed late at night.

He was so sweet with her. His hands alternated between holding her waist and stroking her face and hair. His mouth and tongue were hot and intoxicating against her, but not demanding. She liked the feel of his warm skin against her own and the gentle press of his body. He was like no man that she had ever been with before.

How could she not see it before? He was perfect for her.

"Wanda," he murmured against her neck. "Are you okay? You're very quiet."

She smiled as she slipped his hands under the back of his shirt. "Sorry, I was just in my head a little."

He shifted onto his side, their legs still tangled together, and looked at her in concern. "Are you sure you're alright? Nothing has to happen here."

"I'm more than okay." Her hand, still inside his shirt, moved to his front to trace his abdomen. He never showed off his body but he was fit and toned; there was barely an ounce of fat on him. She knew that girls would drool if he got into the habit of walking around without a shirt. "I want to know what it's like," she said as her hand moved up to rest on his pectoral. Her fingers traced mindless patterns on the firm muscle and then she circled his nipple.

His eyes followed the movement of her hand and he was trying not to let it affect his breathing. He dipped his head and joined their lips once again. "What what's like?"

"To be with you," she breathed into his mouth.

She wanted to know what it was like to be with someone that cared about her as much as he did. What would it feel like? It was an answer that she couldn't even imagine.

He responded to her by kissing her again, a little harder this time, and then he began to unbutton her large, plaid shirt. When he worked open the final button, he climbed on top of her again and she was quick to wrap herself around him, welcoming him into her embrace. She wore a tank top underneath, without a bra, but he was able to snake a hand between them and caress her breast through the thin material.

She moaned and arched into his touch. But he was quick to ask for her permission. "Is this okay? Is touching you like this okay?"

She nodded and wrapped her fingers around his wrist. She arched her back again and pushed his hand into her flesh. "Yes," she groaned, "I love being touched like this. I love _you_ touching me like this. Keep going." His hand on her breast sent little sparks across her body, and straight to her core.

He did keep going, as they kissed, and she moaned encouragingly. Her breasts were extraordinary, and he felt less like a creep fixating on them when he knew that she was enjoying his touch.

With a shift of his hips, a groan was interrupted by a giggle. "What?" He asked with a laugh of his own.

She continued to giggle and she looked up at him with bright, wide, mischievous eyes. "You're so hard."

He blushed in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I got carried away."

"No, no," she cooed, "don't apologize." She slipped a hand down his back and into the back pocket of his pants. She grasped his butt cheek and pulled his hips against hers. "I like it."

He grunted at the contact and thrust his hips against hers. "You know we don't have to…just because I'm…"

Just like the other night in her bed, she found it endearing when he got all nervous and started stuttering when he was turned on. "I know," she smiled. "But I want to."

She kissed him again, harder and with much more promise, and teasingly stroked him over his pants before she wriggled out of her shirt and tossed it aside. She knew that he wouldn't pressure her, or try to talk her into anything, and it really amplified her desire for him.

Along with everything else.

"You know what this is now, right?" He asked in a husky voice.

She nodded as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. "Yeah," she whispered. "I know. I trust you."

He pressed his forehead against hers and felt slightly nervous about the next words out of his mouth. "I want to make love to you."

"And I want you to," she answered with a kiss. Her mouth moved down to his neck as she tried to pull him even closer, so that their bodies were as close as they could be. She wanted to feel every inch of him. "Please," she whispered. "Make me feel good."

He kissed her quickly before he dragged his mouth down her throat and into her cleavage. His hands gently grasped her waist as his tongue flicked over her nipple through the thin fabric of her tank top. She arched up into him, but he held her to the mattress. He was determined to treat her a certain way, at a certain speed, no matter how impatient she got. And he knew that she could be quite impatient.

"Vision," she whined, as if on cue.

"Shh," he whispered against her skin. "I want to take my time. I've been thinking about this for so long."

He pressed butterfly kisses down her abdomen until he reached the waistband of her jeans. He slowly opened the top button and tugged down the zipper, giving her lots of time to stop him or change her mind. He had eased her jeans down over her hips before he felt her hand on the top of his head.

"Vizh, wait," she panted. He glanced up at her with sincere blue eyes and her grip in his hair loosened. She brushed the fringe back from his forehead and flashed him a smile. "Just wait a second."

"Is something wrong?" He inquired softly.

"Just don't stare," she whispered after taking a deep breath.

He furrowed his brow in confusion as he moved up her body to kiss at her neck and collarbone again. He found the spot near the hollow of her throat that seemed to draw a satisfied sigh from her every time, and he focused on it. That sound would definitely be his undoing.

When he felt her relax beneath him, he spoke between placing open mouth kisses on her neck. "Why wouldn't I stare? You're so, so beautiful, Wanda. So beautiful."

She grasped his shoulders and the back of his neck as he showered her upper torso with attention. "I don't usually let guys go down on me," she confessed.

Vision held himself above her with both of his hands firmly on the mattress beside her shoulders. He couldn't quite keep the startled expression off of his face. "Why not? I certainly want to," he told her earnestly.

She smiled softly as her fingers traced over his jawline, cheekbones, and nose. She really wasn't surprised by his selfless streak. He was like that about everything so of course he would be like it in the bedroom. He lowered his head to brush his nose along hers and she took the break in eye contact as an opportunity to divulge another secret. "I have a lot of scars down there, on my inner thighs, from when I used to cut."

"I didn't know that," he finally replied in a whisper.

"I know," she responded, "I've only ever told Pietro."

He closed his eyes as he felt that shift of things between them again. She had never so willingly shared such a secret with him before. "Thank you for telling me."

"I trust you," she said again. She kissed him before slightly redirecting the conversation. "I want to feel the weight of you on top of me." She hooked her arms around his shoulders and tugged him closer. "You make me feel safe." She guided him into another kiss before she added, "I want to feel you inside me."

Her words were like someone had set him on fire from the inside. But his brain registered a critical problem. He kissed her back before he pulled away with a ragged breath. "I don't have any protection," he told her regretfully.

"I don't care." Her patience was wearing thin and her need to feel more of him was turning frantic. She squirmed beneath him to kick off her jeans and underwear and then she tugged his thin t-shirt up over his head. "I'm clean and I'm on the pill." She could still see the apprehension on his face as she reached down to grab the bottom of her tank top so that she could pull it off. "Don't make me beg, Vizh."

He chuckled as he shifted to kneel beside her so that he could use both hands to open his belt. He awkwardly wriggled out of his khakis and boxers, and he felt a lot like a fish flopping around on dry land, but her giggle made him smile. They were both able to maneuver enough to slacken the covers of his bed and yank them down. He resettled on top of her, and they were both naked under the covers.

He laughed as he kissed her softly. "My socks are still on," he admitted through quick kisses.

She tossed her head back and laughed loudly, the sound once again making him grin. "Well take them off!"

"Okay, one second, please." He held himself above her and flushed as he alternated pushing his socks off with his toes.

She smiled up at him and threaded her fingers through his hair as he lowered his head to kiss her. "Better?" She teased.

"Much."

Their mouths joined again and she hitched her legs up over his hips so that she could feel all of him against her. It was a tad weird, it was impossible for her to compartmentalize that it was her quiet, sweet best friend naked and hard above her, but it also felt really good. Especially the way that he kissed her.

"Vision?" She sighed.

"Yes, Wanda?" He inquired politely as he nipped at her collarbone with his teeth.

"What you're doing feels really nice," she told him.

He hid his proud grin in her neck. "Is there anything else I can do?" He gently nuzzled her soft skin as he asked, "Can I touch you again?" He felt her nod, and heard her sigh, so he moved his hand from her hip up to her breast.

They continued to touch and experimentally caress, and Wanda wasn't sure if a guy had ever gotten her so wet without diving straight between her legs.

So maybe this wasn't so weird after all. She had anticipated his generosity, she had not anticipated his dexterity. Who knew that timid, unassuming Vision would be such a magician with his hands and his mouth? Her humble best friend was a bit of a stud.

She groaned, and quite loudly, as a subtle shift of his body pressed his erection against her clit. "Oh God, Vizh." She kissed him eagerly and scratched her nails down his back. "Let's have sex now."

"Now?" He repeated in a rasp. "You don't want a…you don't want an orgasm first?" He was incredibly turned on, but he was ready for a greater build up, prepared for more foreplay.

She shook her head and arched her hips up off of the bed. "I just want you."

He brushed her hair out of her face and stared down at her in awe. He was almost in disbelief that she was saying those words to him in this situation. "Would it ruin the mood if I told you I love you right now?" He asked in a whisper.

She bit down on her bottom lip as she shook her head again. "No," she answered simply.

He sighed with a smile. "Good. I love you, Wanda."

He kissed her, felt her tongue along his bottom lip, as he lined himself up with her entrance. He gave her just enough time to change her mind, to reconsider what they were doing one last time, but she just clutched him tighter. So he softened their kiss and pushed inside of her.

She gasped against his mouth and gripped his sides at the pleasurable intrusion. A guy had never been inside of her without a condom so she was entirely unprepared for the feeing - she was so glad that it was him. She needed to adjust to him, but he felt good inside of her, really good, so she told him so in a whisper against his ear. His method was less of the erratic thrusting that she was used to from the idiots she attracted, and more of a slow, gentle rocking that hit her clit _every single time_. And he was such a goddamn gentleman about it. While her legs were locked around his thighs and her nails scratched at every bit of his skin that she could reach, from his ass to the back of his neck, he caressed her hip and continued to kiss her mouth, and neck, and breasts.

"Vision," she moaned loudly, her head thrown back against the pillows in utter ecstasy.

"Is this okay?" He asked in a murmur. "Do you need anything else?"

"You're good at this."

He chuckled after giving her a quick kiss. "You seem surprised?"

She pushed him onto his back and comfortably settled atop of him before she grinned and addressed his question. She playfully rolled her eyes and responded, "I didn't mean it like _that_."

She placed both of her hands on his chest and began a steady rhythm. He was quick to grasp her hips and help guide her movements as he looked up at her with such a look of longing that it made her entire body flush. His pretty blue eyes were so dark with want. She was pretty sure no one had even come close to looking at her like that. It was incredibly sexy.

Her motions picked up speed as she chased her orgasm, feeling a clenching in her stomach and a prickling at the base of her spine.

"I'm close," she whimpered. "I'm so close, Vizh."

"What do you need?"

She answered him almost immediately, "Kiss me. Kiss me and pull my hair."

Without thought, he sat up and threaded fingers from both of his hands through her long, dark hair. So soft and silky between his fingers. He pressed his mouth eagerly against hers and pulled on her hair until her head tipped back and it changed the angle of their kiss. Her tongue was in his mouth when he felt her muscles tighten around him. It was almost as if he was having an out of body experience. His heightened sense of logic told him that it was impossible that his complicated, gorgeous best friend was falling apart on top of him. But if this was some dream or fantasy then it was incredibly detailed, and honestly nothing like he had ever imagined. It was better. Way better.

She collapsed against his chest and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. One of his hands stayed in her hair and the other stroked the small of her back while he concentrated on the feeling of her hot breath on his neck.

"Are you okay?" He finally spoke to break the silence.

She hummed and began to affectionately kiss his neck. "Definitely."

He was fairly composed, but he was becoming increasingly aware of his own impending climax. Particularly with the way she was nuzzling his neck and jaw. "Do you want me to pull out?"

She pulled back hurriedly and placed both of her hands on his face. "No, I told you, I want to feel you inside me." She leaned in and brushed her nose against his, much like he had earlier when she confessed one of her darkest secrets. "Come for me, Vizh."

They repositioned so that he was on top of her once more. He entwined their fingers and pressed her firmly into the mattress as he used the bottom of his bed frame for leverage. On the very tips of his toes and with his mouth on hers, he gave into his release with a groan of her name. His body went completely still and he buried his face in her neck as he regained control of his breathing.

"I'll be right back." He punctuated his statement with a kiss before he slowly pulled out of her and got out of the bed. He padded towards his small adjoining bathroom and retrieved a wash cloth that he dampened with warm water.

When he slipped back in bed, Wanda had pulled his t-shirt on. He smiled at her as he placed his hand holding the wash cloth between her legs. He slowly brushed the sensitive flesh and her milky thighs.

She laughed through a hiss as she grasped his forearm. "Vision, this is very considerate, but not necessary."

"I want to," he responded quietly. "I like taking care of you."

He tossed the washcloth in the direction of his hamper before he pulled her into an embrace and resumed the soft, slow kisses that had started this whole thing. She sighed into his mouth and wrapped an arm around his midsection. Lying side by side, with their legs tangled, and their mouths lazily joined, it was almost better than sex.

"You know," she began as her fingers traced the defined muscles of his chest, "we can't go back now."

"What do you mean?" He asked with a furrowed brow.

"Well, we've seen each other naked," she grinned. "I know what your face looks like when you come. You know that I like having my hair pulled. We can't go back to just being friends."

He laughed and felt his face flush. "That is true. Is that a bad thing?" He could feel his nerves rising as he posed the question.

She shook her head and watched her fingers travel down his abdomen. "No, not a bad thing." She heard his breath hitch and she watched his muscles jump as her fingernails scratched the fine trail of blonde hair below his navel. "That was probably the best sex I've ever had, Vizh, for so many different reasons."

His chest puffed out involuntarily and he did his best to tamp down a self-satisfied smirk. He had seen the kind of guys that Wanda usually went for, and they looked nothing like him. They were all brawny and brooding, bulging muscles, dark leather, and long hair. The kind of guys that, honestly, looked like they had trouble keeping women out of their beds. The exact opposite of his lanky frame, fair complexion, and college professor attire. He had never hoped to receive such an accolade from her.

She chuckled as she observed his conflicting facial expressions. "It's okay, you can look a little smug. It's a big compliment."

He leaned in to kiss her and she could feel his smile against her mouth.

"It was amazing for me too, Wanda," he began to mutter between newly eager kisses. "I imagined it so many times, but reality is so much better than my imagination."

He took her bottom lip between his teeth and she groaned in response. Her hand, which had settled low on his abdomen, fell to grasp his impressive length. His hips reflexively thrust into her hand and he growled, cupping the back of her head with his hand and kissing her harder.

"I can't go again, not yet," he admitted sheepishly.

"That's okay," she responded as she stroked him. "I'll wait patiently."

In between passionate kisses, he stroked her hip and worked one hand into her hair. He tugged at her roots and listened to the hypnotizing sound of her moan.

"Hey," she laughed breathlessly. "Just because you know one of my buttons doesn't mean you can push it whenever you want."

He chuckled and flicked his tongue against her neck. "I thought that's exactly what it meant."

She giggled and wrapped her arms around his torso. He was just full of surprises. "Your hands in my hair gets me so wet," she murmured against his slick skin.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly through his nose. He paused thoughtfully, enjoying the feeling of her mouth on his shoulder, before he voiced one of his most prevalent fantasies. "Wanda, I want you to sit on my face." Her kisses halted and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Or not," he hurriedly added. "If you're not comfortable…if you don't want to that's fine…you said you didn't want me to uh…but that's a little different…so I thought…"

She stopped his rambling with her index finger on his lips. She had been shocked by his request, but the rather crude phrasing in his polite, proper accent was ridiculously fucking hot. "Okay," she grinned.

She could see how excited he was by the idea, and she could feel it against her stomach. So she pulled his t-shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor, leaving her naked once more.

"Yeah?" He asked with a boyish smile.

She nodded, and he immediately rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him. He felt incredibly horny for a man that had just had sex. She settled on his upper chest, her knees on either side of his head and her calves tucked under his shoulders, and he eagerly pulled her forward.

At the first contact, she gasped and braced her hand on the bedroom wall while her other hand found his hair. "Vision, fuck!"

Despite being rather sexually experienced, this was new territory for her. But not for him it seemed. His hands grasped her butt and his eyes practically twinkled as he looked up at her. He moaned loudly, as if he was getting as much pleasure from this as she was, and it made the muscles in her thighs jump.

This was definitely about trust, she told herself. It helped that he wasn't tracing the scars on her legs with a furrowed brow, but it certainly came down to trust. Trust (and sheer enthusiasm). She would not be doing this, and definitely would not be enjoying it so much, with just any guy. She was trusting him with everything now, her secrets, her body, her heart.

She whimpered his name and his fingers dug into the flesh of her behind while his tongue lapped at her. There was a reason that he had fantasized about her in his position. Being so surrounded by her as he brought her to the brink of orgasm was what he thought about when he thought about the two of them in bed together. The view was also quite appealing, he could stare at her wonderful body and watch the expressions on her face as she responded to him.

As she neared her peak, she moaned louder, cursed in both English and Sokovian, and pressed against him just a little bit harder while affectionately touching his hair. He didn't understand blokes who hated this. Sure, breathing could be an issue, but actual suffocation wasn't a plausibility. Even so, was there a better way to go than between a beautiful woman's legs?

"Vizh," she whined. "Oh God, this is torture."

He grinned broadly. That impatient streak again.

She rose up, just out of his reach, as she readjusted her hand on the wall, and she could have sworn that he whined at the loss.

Her orgasm completely blindsided her and she knew that her vocalization of it was quite loud. Her hips gyrated almost uncontrollably and his hands just urged her to keep surging forward. When his touch finally became too much, she managed to unhook her legs from around his shoulders and flop sideways onto the mattress. Her feet were now near his head but she really didn't care as she ran a hand through her hair and blinked white spots from her vision.

She hadn't even realized that he had aligned himself the same way on the bed until she felt soft kisses on her belly. She slowly reached down and ran her hand through his hair, which had become rather messy thanks to her.

He looked up at her with a smile and finally spoke. "That was so amazing, Wanda. Thank you so much."

She panted and stared down at him in disbelief. Wasn't she supposed to be saying that to him right now? "You're kind of a freak aren't you?" She teased once she regained her senses.

He chuckled, but flushed, and shifted to hover above her. "Can I kiss you now? I know some women don't—"

She cut him off by aggressively grabbing his neck and pulling him down so that his mouth could meet hers. "You can kiss me anytime you want," she told him when she took a breath.

"Really?" He asked. It was a loaded question, but one that he needed to ask.

For the last several hours he had contemplated cutting Wanda out of his life because he knew how much it was going to hurt to see her, and spend time with her, and care about her, but be denied other things. He had reached his limit, regardless of how selfish that sounded. He wanted to hold her hand. Tuck her hair behind her ear. Cuddle in her bed. Bring her coffee at work. Kiss her. And he wanted all of those things to be a sign of communication between lovers.

She nodded and wrapped her arms around his shoulders once more. "Yeah, Vizh. I know what this is now."

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 **A/N:** Please leave a review! :)


	4. 4 -

**A/N:** Just cute smut here. Probably one more chapter. Enjoy! :)

 **Disclaimer:** Characters are not mine!

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Wanda awoke in the security of Vision's embrace. Fitting to his personality, he was obviously pro-cuddle because he was almost completely wrapped around her. His leg was hitched over hers, one arm was across her lower abdomen, and the other was underneath her and around her chest. She could feel his slow, even breath on the back of her neck and despite every basic instinct that she had to run and be alone, she couldn't help but feel so safe and protected in his arms. It made her smile into the pillow beneath her head.

She had certainly never felt this way waking up with a guy before. She usually tried to avoid staying the night if at all possible. But she couldn't even imagine not sleeping through the night with Vision after having sex with him. She had wanted the shared intimacy of the moments right after orgasm where they were at their most vulnerable, while they regained their breathing and stretched their limbs. She had wanted to curl into him and watch him fall asleep. She had _wanted_ to stay. Most importantly, she had wanted to wake up with him.

She knew exactly what this was, like she had told him. They weren't best friends. They weren't fooling around. They were so much more. She was ready to commit to him in a way that she never thought she'd be ready for, and the thought of giving everything to him did not terrify her like she thought it would. It kind of made her excited. He was so gentle and loving, and a little insatiable in the bedroom. She had really underestimated his sexual appetite. Just thinking about him making love to her made her giggle happily. She couldn't even believe that she was using the term "make love". Only idiots in love said shit like that. That made her laugh even harder. She pressed her face into the pillow to muffle the sound, but she still felt him shift behind her.

"Wanda?" He murmured sleepily. "Are you alright?"

He pulled her tighter against his chest and nuzzled the back of her neck. It only took a quick glance around the room to deduce that it was still early, it was still terribly dark outside. "I'm great, baby, go back to sleep."

She felt him smile against her skin. "Hmm, baby? I like that."

She giggled again. "I knew that you would be a pet name kinda guy." She used physical touch to express her feelings while Vision was much more verbal. "Well, what are you going to call me?"

He didn't even hesitate before kissing the back of her head and responding. "My love."

Her entire body flushed and a heat settled in the pit of her stomach. "You're so good to me," she whispered.

He was still half-asleep, but he spoke with conviction. "You deserve it, Wanda."

Wanda felt herself getting emotional once more so she was slightly relieved when she heard him give into sleep. It was enough just to be in his arms.

And she didn't want to waste any more tears.

She fell back to sleep as well and when she awoke again it was to kisses on her shoulder.

"Morning," she muttered as she stretched her toes. She turned enough in his arms to raise a hand to thread through the hair at the back of his head and she kissed him on the forehead. "How do you feel?"

"I feel fantastic," he answered with his voice still rough from sleep. "How do you feel?"

"I feel good," she replied honestly. "A little sore, but good," she chuckled.

He winced. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," she answered quickly. "It's a good sore. The kind of sore that lets me know that I was definitely satisfied last night."

He schooled his features into an expression of neutrality, not smugness, but he knew that he was doing a terrible job when she laughed. Ego stroking was hard to contain.

"Stallion," she teased with a coy bat of her eyelashes.

He laughed and dipped his head to kiss her neck. "I like making you feel good," he stated genuinely. "It makes me feel good."

She played with the fringe falling over his forehead and smiled. "I like making you feel good too. You're really beautiful when you come. Your eyes get really blue, and your brow furrows just the tiniest bit, and the way you look at me is so sexy." Her fingers traced his facial features as she spoke and smiled when he kissed her fingertips. "You're so sexy," she sighed.

He blushed bright red and it made him all the more attractive. "I don't think anyone has ever called me that before," he responded shyly.

"Well you are," she grinned. She curled into his chest and began to kiss underneath his jaw. "Do you remember that girl you dated a couple years ago? The one that was kinda weird?"

"Mantis?" He guessed.

"Yeah," she laughed, "she told me once that you were earth shatteringly good in bed, and to be honest, I didn't believe her."

His hands flew to her sides and he began to tickle her. "That's why you seemed so surprised."

"I knew you would be generous," she tried to explain through giggles. "I just didn't think you'd be so…" She trailed off and dissolved into uncontrollable laughter. "Stop, Vizh," she begged. "Stop."

With a grin still firmly in place, he relented and pulled her on top of him. He linked his hands together across the small of her back. "That I'd be so what?" He asked curiously.

She paused for a beat before she answered, searching for the right word. "Confident."

He simply shrugged, and a blush coloured his cheeks again. "I didn't really think about it, just how much I want you, and how much I love you."

She leaned down to kiss him, their first real kiss of the morning, and he responded eagerly.

It was easy for them to fall back into sex, especially after what they had shared last night. He held her tightly, their limbs tangled, and they shared breath as they kissed. When he sank into her, he almost sighed with relief.

"Wanda," he whispered into her hair. "You're so amazing."

Her grip on his shoulder and the back of his neck tightened. She needed a moment to take an extra breath. "Wait one second, baby," she whispered back.

He raised his head and looked down at her in concern. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answered quickly. "Just sore, remember?"

"Oh." He blushed at forgetting such an obvious fact so quickly. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "Is it too much?" He felt awfully inconsiderate all of a sudden. "Do you want to stop?"

She shook her head and brought his face close to hers. "No, you're so sweet and gentle. It's like you know what I want better than I do."

He blushed again. He wasn't used to a woman talking to him in bed the way that she did. "That's not true. I just treat you the way I think you deserve."

She pulled him down for a kiss and rocked against him, telling him that she was ready for him to move inside of her.

They made love slowly, far slower than they had the night before. She gently ran her hands over the scratches that she had left on his skin and he nipped at an existing love bite on her neck. He worked a hand between their bodies and softly brushed his fingers against her clit. She gasped against his mouth and he continued the motion until she climaxed and fluttered around him. When he came, it was with a quiet groan of her name and his hands gripping the bedsheets alongside her. She held him to her tightly as he panted and playfully nipped at his earlobe. She felt him shiver as she traced patterns on his smooth skin.

He made a move to pull out and shift off of her, but she held him in place. "Stay," she requested softly. "Just for a little while. I like this."

He nodded against the side of her head and then he began to plant kisses along her neck. "God Wanda," he spoke in a breathless, awed voice. She was being so soft and open, and playful, and vulnerable with him this morning. "I love being with you."

"I love being with you too," she exhaled.

Minutes later, he finally rolled onto his side and cupped her cheek with his hand. "I know it's stupid," he began timidly, "but I never want to leave this bed. I have this fear that things won't be different once we leave this bed. You'll walk out the door and we'll just be," he shrugged as he debated how to finish his sentence. " _Us_."

She touched his face in return and smiled at him. " _Us_ means something different now. It means that I call you baby, that I say hello and goodbye by kissing you, and that I touch you like this when I'm feeling frisky." She ran her hand slowly down his back until she cupped his behind, and she giggled when he noticeably shivered. "It means that when I text you in the middle of the night, you'll know that it's for sex."

He had to laugh at that, but he was quick to bring their conversation back around to his overwhelming insecurities. "Can it also mean that I get to take you out to nice dinners? That I can bring you lunch at work sometimes? That we can spend Christmas together?"

She was silent for a long moment. Time stretched on and it was so quiet that he could practically hear his intestines knotting. But then she smiled, wide and bright, and he could tell that she was happy.

"I can't make any promises about Christmas," she said with a teasing grin, "but I can give you Hanukkah?"

He let out a breath of relief before he kissed her. He had momentarily forgotten that she was Jewish. "Hanukkah it is," he agreed gleefully. He kissed her again before his brow furrowed in confusion. "Can I ask you a question?" She nodded so he proceeded cautiously. "If you and Pietro never knew your parents, how do you know you're Jewish?"

"Well," she sighed as she placed both of her hands on his shoulders. "That is a long story."

"Can you tell me?"

She shyly bit down on her bottom lip and nodded. "Yeah."

Sometime in the afternoon, they finally decided to leave the safety of the bed.

Wanda walked up to him with a naughty grin as he pulled on a pair of slacks and buckled his belt. "I'm kind of disappointed that you're putting on clothes." She rested both of her hands on his bare abdomen and placed a kiss in the middle of his chest. "You look so good naked."

He flushed and raised his hands to settle on her hips. "Thank you," he replied shyly. "And you are gorgeous, with or without clothes."

She giggled and backed away to give him some space to redress without her wandering hands and lips. She knew that he would give into her if she tried to coax him back to the bed. She sat down in his computer chair cross-legged so that she could mindlessly spin around in it. She watched him move about his dorm room, tidying away and making sure everything was exactly where it should be.

She had put her clothes back on as well, opting to wear nothing under her plaid shirt this time, but the excitement and newness of their relationship made her want to strip and pounce on him.

"Vizh," she called to him in the bathroom.

"Yes?"

"What do you want to do now?"

"Would you like to go back to your apartment?" He called back.

"I would like to talk to my brother," she answered, "and I could use a shower."

He stepped back into the main room with a smile. "Then I can certainly walk you back to your place."

"Such a gentleman," she teased. She hopped out of the chair and sauntered towards him. "I want you in my bed," she whispered as she placed her hands on him again.

He gulped as he imagined himself, naked, on her blood red sheets. "I would like that." He kissed her softly before he grabbed one of his coats and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I don't want you to get cold," he murmured.

She smiled up at him, completely infatuated, and only stepped away from him so that he could pull on his boots and prepare for the outdoors.

They walked to her apartment building, hand in hand, and he stayed close even as she unlocked the door and stepped inside to find Pietro in the kitchen fiddling with the blender.

She practically ran towards her twin brother and wrapped her arms around him in a tight, desperate hug. She was so lucky to have him in her life, and she was so lucky that their relationship remained so open, and honest, and supportive, even in adulthood. He loved her and cared for her, and he had never given up on her, even when she had been at her lowest, her darkest. It made everything that she had done in Novi Grad worth it, without question. She couldn't imagine her life without Pietro - if she had lost him that cold, bitter winter.

"Ew, you smell like sex," he stated as he pulled away from her with his nose wrinkled in disgust.

But he was still an asshole most of the time.

She smacked his chest and rolled her eyes. "It's nice to see you too."

He chuckled and looked over her shoulder at the tall blonde still standing near the coatrack. "Hey Vision, how's it going?"

"Good, Pietro, thank you," Vision answered bashfully. "How are you?"

"Great," he nodded. "Just making a shake before I go for a run." He kissed his sister on the top of the head before he spoke to her quietly. "Everything is okay now? You feel okay?"

She replied with a smile. "Yeah, Pietro, everything is okay."

He smiled back at her before he took off for his daily run. "Please don't let me come home to anything traumatizing," he yelled before he closed the door behind him.

Wanda giggled at Vision's aghast expression. "Do you know how many times I've come home to him butt naked on the couch?"

Vision's eyes widened as he turned to stare at the living room sofa that he had occupied hundreds of times. "Oh."

"He really is a terrible roommate," she joked.

He laughed along with her as she took his hand and led him into her bedroom. She closed the door behind them and grasped both of his hands so that she could slowly pull him towards the adjoining bathroom.

"Take a shower with me?" She asked with a tilt of her head.

He nodded and followed her without saying a word.

He wrapped his arms around her as they stood under the hot spray together. He pressed his face into her wet hair and sighed contentedly.

"You're so cuddly," she laughed.

He frowned to himself. "Is that a bad thing? Is it too much?" The last thing that he wanted to do was smother or suffocate her, especially this early in their new relationship.

She reached up to touch his forearms across her chest as she shook her head. "No," she answered softly. "I like it. You're big and warm," she added with a giggle.

He laughed as well, the sound deep and husky. "Well you are very small," he retorted.

"Are you trying to protect me?" She asked almost teasingly.

He paused for a moment before he responded, "Only if you want me to."

She grinned to herself as she traced her fingers over the tendons in his forearms. That was such a good answer. "Sometimes," she admitted quietly. "You do make me feel safe," she told him once more.

He kissed the top of her head with a satisfied smile. She spun around to kiss him on the mouth and then he slowly washed her from head to toe. He gently brushed the washcloth along every inch of her pale skin, from her shoulders to the soles of her feet. Her breath hitched as he spoiled her, even washing her hair and applying conditioner.

He pressed her against the tiled wall and she giggled at how turned on he was – focusing on her comfort and pleasure really did make him aroused. It put everything about sex in a different perspective for her. She had never had a partner like him before. She gripped the hair at the back of his neck and opened her mouth to him as they kissed.

His hands on her hips pulled her flush against him and she moaned at the feeling. "Vision," she gasped. "I want to wash you and then I want to take you to bed."

He showed no signs of putting up a fight so she washed him with her coconut scented body wash and smiled at the way he consistently leaned into her touch. It was sweet, the way he followed the pressure of her hands and gazed at her with glassy, blue eyes. She tried to suppress a grin every time he groaned, or felt the muscles in his body twitch, but it was impossible. She liked knowing the effect that she had on him.

Only when the water began to run cold did they leave the shower. They each wrapped themselves in a towel and then he carried her to her bed.

He gently laid her on the mattress and they kissed slowly, lazily, without any sort of end goal in mind. Wanda's bed was still unmade, of course, and it made it easy for them to slip beneath the sheets. She gripped his face and slowly moved her hands down the damp skin of his back as their kisses grew more passionate.

He moved his mouth down over her throat as he opened the towel around her. She practically purred as he sucked on her collarbone and then her puckered nipples. He moved down her torso, slowly, tentatively, and this time, instead of calling him back and squirming away, she placed a hand on the top of his head encouragingly.

And when he dipped his tongue between her legs and wrapped a hand around the top of her thigh, she tossed her head back in ecstasy and let a cry slip past her lips. She felt relaxed and at ease enough to just enjoy it. Especially knowing how much he enjoyed it.

He moaned against her, and the sensation made her dig her heels into his back.

"Wanda," he breathed, "Is this okay?"

"Uh huh," she whined. "So good, Vizh. Your mouth feels so good."

His piercing, darkened blue eyes locked on her as he spoke in a husky voice. "I love the way you taste."

A shiver raced down her spine and she tugged on the ends of his hair. "Oh Vision."

She closed her eyes and arched her back as his mouth became more insistent and excited, like he was competing in a time trial to get her off. He flicked his tongue against her clit, repeatedly, and she came with a shameless squeal.

He climbed back up to the top of the bed and didn't even attempt to hide the expression of satisfaction on his face this time. He placed a hand on the side of her face and kissed her hungrily, his thumb rubbing against the corner of her jaw and his tongue sweeping along her bottom lip.

Yet again, she hummed in pleasure.

They kissed again for several minutes and then they completely removed both of their bath towels and tossed them aside. It was another thing joining the mess on her floor that he would surely clean up in the morning. They shifted onto their sides and kissed and caressed unhurriedly.

He smiled at her as he tucked her damp hair behind her ear. He wanted to keep telling her that he loved her, but he didn't want it to become a point of contention between them – that he kept telling her that he loved her and she was yet to say it back. So he said nothing, and communicated it through his touch and his kiss.

Wanda's breath hitched as Vision slowly ran his hand down her spine and over her butt. She could feel the intensity of his gaze on her and it made her shiver. She slowly opened her eyes, which had fallen closed in contentment, and blinked at him. "What is it, Vizh?"

"Nothing," he whispered, "I'm just looking at you."

"Why?" She asked curiously.

"Because I was afraid to before," he admitted as a soft blush stained his cheeks. "I was afraid that you would notice if I stared for too long."

"Well," she spoke, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, "I guess you can look for as long as you'd like now."

"I would like that very much," he grinned. He shifted even closer to her in the bed and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. "You're so beautiful."

She giggled happily and wrapped her limbs around him. "Keep talking to me," she whispered. "And looking at me." She brushed her nose against his before she pleaded, " _Stay_."

"Always," he replied instantly.

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 **A/N:** Please review! :)


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